مون

Here I sit, nestled upon your lap, feeling the softness of my feminine form melding into your strength. My shoulder trembles, seeking comfort in the warmth of your embrace. Tears threaten, but you're here to calm the storm. Though we should be leaving soon, hold on just another moment. Let me shed these tears, for it feels like our time is slipping away. As time passed, it seemed your interest waned, dwindling with each moment, until now, it feels like this could be our final encounter. I ask for more kisses, hoping to prolong our connection, to feel whole within your arms. With each plea for more kisses, I find myself whispering inwardly, "Let this not be our final one.” Your touch, steady and reassuring, envelops me, holding together the shattered pieces of my being. I reach for your face, seeking solace in the darkness. Outside, footsteps pass, a reminder of the world beyond our sanctuary. Yet you hold me tighter. As my fingertips trace the silhouette of your features, I am greeted once more by the tender warmth of your skin. Pressing my head against your shoulder, I silently plead: don't let this be our last time.

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